The Spy's Eye Affair
by JantoJones
Summary: Napoleon and Illya investigate reports of a lie detector housed within a contact lens.


Arriving at the laboratory of electrical engineer, Dr Gregory Thomas, Illya hesitated.

"What's wrong?" Solo asked. He'd learned long ago to trust his partner's instincts.

"Something about this is not right," the Russian replied. "The technology Dr Thomas is claiming to have invented is straight out of science fiction."

The agents were responding to reports that the doctor had created a contact lens which housed a lie detector. According to the information they'd received, the device allowed the wearer to see a glow around a person when they lied. Illya was a natural sceptic, but even Napoleon couldn't bring himself to believe the reports.

"I agree, Tovarisch," he replied. "However, we do need to check it out before the bad guys come looking."

They were greeted inside by an exceedingly attractive young woman, who turned out to the Dr Thomas' receptionist. She smiled sweetly, and asked to two men to take a seat while she went to see if the doctor was available.

"The technology simply doesn't exist to do what he claims," Illya continued voicing his doubts, before realising Napoleon's attention was elsewhere. "Is no woman safe from one of your leering glares?"

"I don't leer, I admire," Solo corrected. "And will you stop worrying."

The receptionist returned quite quickly, followed by Dr Thomas. Illya and Napoleon showed him their credentials and explained the reason for their visit.

"I don't know how you heard about it, but I do have something in development. Please, come in and allow me to demonstrate."

Solo and Kuryakin followed the doctor down the corridor, passing several labs along the way. Inside a few of them, security guards seemed to be very visible. The sight of them caused Illya's worries to grow. He could understand a lab having security if they were working on something sensitive, but a couple of the rooms seemed to be overly secured. Napoleon had also begun to sense a feeling of wrongness about the place and gave his partner a look. Illya gave him an imperceptible nod of understanding.

Doctor Thomas' laboratory, when they reached it, was not what they were expecting. It was a space about the size of a basketball court, with computer banks along one wall, and work benches along another. There were no windows. The doctor retrieved a small box from one of the benches and handed it to Napoleon. The agent opened it to reveal a strange looking contact lens. The centre of it was opaque with a strange star like pattern embedded in it. On closer inspection, he could see that the star was made up of fine wires.

"Can this really do what we've heard?"

"If one of you would like to volunteer, I can offer you a practical demonstration."

Solo held the lens out to Illya, who point blank refused to be a guinea pig.

"I would not advise it, Napoleon," the Russian warned. "Not until one of our scientists can examine it."

"It's perfectly safe," Thomas assured him. "Go ahead Mr Solo. I think you'll find it quite revealing."

"I agree with my friend here," Napoleon told him. "Would you mind if we called in a couple of our own people?"

Without any warning whatsoever, Dr Thomas pulled a gun from beneath his lab coat. Illya had his gun halfway drawn, but wasn't quite fast enough. Pointing his own pistol at Napoleon, he instructed Illya to drop his and kick it away. Thomas then switched his aim to Russian and ordered Solo to do the same.

"If you don't want me to shoot your partner, I suggest you insert the contact lens."

With no other option presenting itself, Napoleon took the lens from its box and placed it in his right eye. He yelped as felt a slight shock pass along his optic nerve and automatically reached up to remove the object.

"Leave it!" snapped the doctor.

Napoleon felt his arms drop. Trying again to reach up, he was assaulted by another shock.

"I have control of you now," Thomas explained. "Every time you attempt to disobey a direct order, you will receive a shock. As you are now aware, it does not do what you have been told."

"How does it work?" asked Illya, hoping to glean enough information to help Napoleon.

"I doubt you'd understand," sneered the doctor. "Not that you'll need too, as you'll be dead shortly."

He stooped down and picked up Solo's weapon.

"I am returning this to you. You will not shoot me with it. You will, however, aim it at Mr Kuryakin. When I give you the instruction, you will kill him."

Taking the gun, Napoleon tried to point it at Thomas, but a further shock forced him to aim at Illya. In an attempt to outwit the doctor, he pointed at the Russian's thigh.

"That shot won't kill him. Aim for the heart Mr Solo."

With an expression fully of apology, Napoleon did as he was ordered.

Illya Kuryakin's face was practically expressionless. Only someone who knew him really well would be able to see the forgiveness in his eyes, and Napoleon saw it. Not that it gave him any comfort.

"Do you have any last words, Mr Kuryakin?" Dr Thomas asked, almost gleefully.

"Only this," replied Illya, in a tone which could have frozen the sun. "I will make you pay."

"That will be impressive, as well as impossible. Say Da Svidanye to your friend."

Before Thomas could give the order to kill, the door to the lab was slammed open. A heavyset man, with dark hair and hooded eyes entered, followed by two heavily armed guards.

"What do you think you're doing?!" the man yelled at the scientist. "I know you haven't been with THRUSH long, but you should know by now just how important these particular men are. They need to be questioned. Lock them in a cell until I'm ready for them, the guards will go with you."

"I'm sorry Mr Wells," Dr Thomas apologised. "I didn't realise. I already have Solo in my control, so you should be able to get what you want from him easily."

"That, at least, is something you've managed to do right."

…

The two agents were locked into the same cell, after having all their equipment confiscated. Well, all the equipment their captor could find. Illya was shackled to the wall, with his hands above him. His right eye was swelling closed from where one of the guards had elbowed him. Despite knowing he would fail, the Russian had tried a spirited attempt to escape, which had been more out of professional pride than anything else. As for Napoleon, he had his hands fastened in front of him, and had been given a direct instruction not to escape. He'd tried a couple of times to remove the contact lens, but the pain from the shocks it caused was too much to bear. It also left him feeling a little light-headed.

"I'm going to assume that this was a trap, and we walked right into it," Illya stated. "Do you know who this Wells is?"

"I have no idea, Partner Mine," Solo replied, as he pulled a thin piece of metal from the end of his shoelace. "They have made a mistake though."

Illya didn't need to ask what the mistake was. As he'd watched Napoleon extract his lock-pick, he'd realised that the CEA had only been instructed not to escape. Nothing had been said about helping Illya to get out. A little warily, Solo got to his feet and swiftly freed his partner.

"Ok, I want you to make a break for it, and get back to HQ," he instructed. "Rally the cavalry, and then come back for me."

"By which point, you'll have either been electrocuted to death," Illya muttered, as he worked the pick in the door lock. "Or will have been forced to give up information."

"Don't fight me on this, Tovarisch," Napoleon warned.

Illya straightened up. "And please don't pull rank on me, my friend."

The Russian threw a hard punch, which landed heavily against Solo's jaw, knocking the man clean out. He would no doubt pay for it later, but he wasn't going to worry about it just yet. His concern right at that moment was the contact lens. Illya was hoping that, since Napoleon was not escaping of his own volition, and was unconscious, the lens wouldn't work. He was not looking forward to the senior agent waking up.

Lifting Solo up into a fireman's carry, Kuryakin began their escape. Knowing there was little point in attempting to reach their car, Illya made a bee-line for the back of the facility. He only had to stop once, to incapacitate a guard, but that had the added advantage of furnishing him with a weapon.

Quite remarkably, Illya found an exit relatively quickly. Expecting an alarm as the door opened, he was fairly surprised to be greeted with silence. Reminding himself that there were more pressing matters to hand, Illya dashed across the small patch of open ground, towards some dense woodland ahead. Once inside the trees, it didn't take him long to realise he wasn't going to be able to carry Napoleon with any sort of speed. The American was going to have to get through under his own steam, but that would be scuppered by the lens.

Carefully laying Solo on the damp ground, Illya prised open the eye which held the contact lens. He was on the horns of a dilemma. Should he remove it, or leave it in? If he took it out, there was the possibility of damaging the eye. However, leaving it in could trigger the device when Napoleon woke and realised he was, technically, escaping. When it came down to it, he had the choice between risking his friend's eye, or his life. It was no contest. With a care which belied his large hands, Illya gently removed the lens, and was relieved to find it wasn't attached in any way.

Before he could rouse Solo to wakefulness, he became aware of voices coming towards him. It wasn't difficult to figure they were looking for the absconding prisoners, so Illya had to act quickly. Pressing the contact lens into Napoleon's hand, he folded the fingers over it. Then, as best he could, he covered his friend's torso and legs with soil and twigs. Using more soil, the blond rubbed it over the brunet's face, and laid a few leaves and twigs on top. Hopefully, it would be enough to keep him hidden. With a final check, Illya darted away.

Illya ran, ignoring the branches which whipped against his face. Having no communicator, with which to call in reinforcements, meant he would have to find a public telephone. His plan was scuppered almost immediately when a THRUSH goon stepped out from the trees and slammed his rifle into Kuryakin's face. Illya dropped, with the beginnings of a second black eye already forming. The unconscious agent was carried back to the facility, where he was taken to a medical lab, and strapped to a dental chair. He came to with a groan, and very quickly realised his situation.

"Where is Solo?" Nicholas Wells demanded of him.

Illya shook his head, in an effort to clear his blurred vision.

"Gone," he replied. "I removed the lens and we split up.

"Pity," Wells snarled. "Still, we have you, and I know the good doctor has more of the lenses."

"Actually," Doctor Thomas interjected, while examining Illya's face. "Both eyes have been damaged, albeit temporarily, but the lenses won't work."

Wells practically roared with frustration.

"Then I guess we'll have to question him the old fashioned way."

…

Napoleon woke in confusion, which dissipated rapidly. His first clear thought, as he rubbed his bruised jaw, was a vow to discuss the hitting of superiors with Illya. Sitting up, and brushing the dirt from his suit (something else he word have to have a word about), Napoleon felt something drop from his hand. He soon figured it was the contact lens when he noticed he had yet to be zapped by the thing. Napoleon cursed under his breath as he carefully tried to locate the object amongst the debris. With a stroke of luck he found in within five minutes. Tucking it safely into his pocket, Solo reached for the communicator what wasn't there. He cursed again.

Pulling himself to his feet, Solo checked his watch. Five hours had passed since he and Illya had first entered the facility. Darkness was on the verge of descending and a wind was starting to pick up. The breeze dislodged some blossom from the trees around him and, for a moment, the pink hue of the petals transported Napoleon to Japan. The memory of the cherry blossoms, and the beautiful woman amongst them, brought a soft smile to his lips.

He shook the memory away. There were much more important things to consider. One of which was, where was Illya? Had he gone for the cavalry, or had he been recaptured. His only option was to find a way to contact headquarters. Half an hour later, Napoleon managed to find a telephone, and negotiated his way through the several levels of security. Finally, he got to Waverly.

"We were starting to become concerned, Mr Solo. What is your report?"

"With respect Sir, I will have to give you the details later," Napoleon told his boss, wincing at the disgruntled harrumph. "Have you heard from Mr Kuryakin?"

"We have had no communication from either of you since this morning," the Old Man informed him.

"I need a back-up team as quickly as possible. This facility is in the hands of THRUSH, and I'm assuming that goes for Illya also."

"Very well, Mr Solo," Waverly agreed. "A team is being dispatched forthwith. I suggest, in the interim, that you attempt to locate your partner."

…..

Illya was in a state of euphoria, having been pumped full of the latest THRUSH truth serum. It had been a final resort on Wells' part. The severe beating he'd ordered the guards to give Kuryakin, had failed to yield anything. Unfortunately, the serum appeared to be unsuccessful also. The U.N.C.L.E. agent was giggling from the high he was experiencing, and seemed not to understand anything which was being said to him. This, of course, just angered Wells further. In sheer frustration, he pulled out his gun and aimed it at Illya; who completely ignored it.

"Drop it!"

Looking towards the source of the voice, Wells was surprised to see who was standing there.

"I didn't expect to see you Solo," he sneered. "I thought you had abandoned your friend here."

"We aren't THRUSH," Napoleon retorted. "We don't leave anyone behind if we can help it. Drop the weapon, I won't ask again."

Wells considered his options. Several scenarios passed through mind, but only one resulted in him remaining alive. He surrendered his weapon and placed his hands on his head.

"Very shortly, U.N.C.L.E. will take control here," Napoleon told him. "Your future is not going to be a happy one, especially if we allow my partner here to do your interrogation. He gets a little enthusiastic."

The Russian himself had gone quiet. His come down from the truth drug had been sudden, and he'd fallen into the happy, pain-free world of unconsciousness.

….

He returned a few hours later in his least favourite place. How he'd gotten to medical was beyond his comprehension, but he had to admit it was better than being beaten. His body hurt and his head was pounding, but Illya only had one thing on his mind.

"When can I get out of here?"

Napoleon smiled.

"Believe it or not, Tovarisch, you'll probably be able to go shortly."

"What happened to Wells?" the Russian asked, relaxing at thought of going home.

"He's going to the U.N.C.L.E. prison facility, along with Dr Thomas," Solo informed his partner. "Waverly is fairly happy at the outcome of today, and R&D couldn't wait to get their hands on the contact lenses."

"Well, they can keep them away from me," Illya huffed, crossing his arms in defiance.

"With that bank robber's mask of bruises you're sporting, I doubt they'd be able to use you anyway. Speaking of which."

Napoleon pointed at the mark which covered the left side of his jaw. Illya simply smirked, a very painful movement given the state of his face. Half of him was sorry that he'd had to hit his friend, but the other half was very much enjoying the fact.


End file.
